


Natural Sub

by GoblinCatKC



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Light BDSM, M/M, Motorcycle Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 02:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15595986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinCatKC/pseuds/GoblinCatKC
Summary: Michelangelo discovered that Leonardo is a natural submissive. A series of short pieces exploring what that means for the four of them.





	1. Incense

**Author's Note:**

> The first three pieces come from a series of prompts on my tumblr. These have been cut out of the sub!Leo collection of mine. The rest are for the Everybody Wants Leo fandom event.

Early enough that his brothers were finishing their morning routines, Leonardo opened the dojo, kneeling at the altar to light sandalwood incense. A holdover from when Splinter was still young enough to lead practice—he sighed. Splinter did not join them for practice any more. And Leonardo didn’t really care that the incense burner was a the statue of Buddha, but the brass dish at his base held incense well, and practice didn’t feel right without that scent in the air.

Then he went to the pile of athletic tape in the corner. He’d forgotten how many stores they’d cleaned out for the rolls upon rolls of black tape, but they’d gone from hitting the local convenience shops to stealing boxes from warehouses. Sitting down by the pile, he stretched his long legs for a moment, then relaxed with a tired sigh.

Sometimes…he really hated waking up this early just to practice. To bother his siblings to rise and work out even when Saki was dead and the clan war was over. At least Donatello had coffee to look forward to. Raphael was still dragging himself out of his hammock, and Michelangelo—

Michelangelo plopped down in front of him with a grin too cheery for the morning. Leonardo blinked, pausing with the tape at his wrist.

“You’re in here early,” he said, but he glanced at the clock. “Or did I lose track of time?”

“Hey, I don’t _always_ play hooky in the kitchen.” Michelangelo plucked the tape out of his hand, stretching a piece and holding it out. “Here, I’ll do your arms if you do mine after.”

“…okay.”

Leonardo put his hand out and watched his brother wind the tape beneath his shoulder, fitting it snugly, slowly bringing it down to his hand. The repetitive movement lulled him into quiet, and he remembered how late he’d gotten to sleep the night before.

“Raph needs to learn to be a little nicer,” Michelangelo said softly, chuckling as a flush colored Leonardo’s face. “He should remember you like to get to bed early.”

“I should’ve known better than to say yes,” Leonardo muttered. “He’s as bad as you when he gets going.”

“Aw, you wound me.” Michelangelo began tending his hand, wrapping the tape around his fingers. “I thought I take good care of you.”

“You’re a sex weasel,” Leonardo said without any heat, simply stating a fact. “You’re just nicer about it.”

“So I’m worse than Donny, too?”

Leonardo’s eyes closed. Michelangelo understood. Donatello was as attentive as a scientist hovering over his experiment, always watching, gauging for expected reactions. Sleeping with Donatello was pleasant if unnerving—monitored every moment.

Now Michelangelo started working on the other arm. Leonardo let himself drowse, snatching what small form of sleep he could. Raphael hadn’t come in yet, so he could afford to snooze without fearing being teased. And Donatello was still finishing breakfast…

Leonardo frowned.

“What’s the matter?” Michelangelo asked.

“Don’s still not here,” Leonardo said.

“Is that bad?”

“It means he’s probably snuck back into his lab and I’ll have to drag him out again.”

“I don’t think so,” Michelangelo said mildly. “I mean, you’re probably right. He probably shot off to watch his slimes, molds and spores creep across a petri dish.”

Leonardo sighed.

“But I don’t think that he meant anything bad by it,” Michelangelo said. “Since I’m the one who told him that you called off practice.”

A moment passed before Leonard understood what Michelangelo had said. “…what?”

“Told him practice was canceled,” Michelangelo repeated with the same cheerful smile. “Told Raph, too. He just flopped back into his hammock. And Splinter’s sleeping in—don’t’ worry, I checked. So no one’s coming in besides us.”

Confused, Leonardo sat straight…and looked down at his arms—completely taped, yes, and completely tangled together. The tape from each arm had been wrapped over and under the tape around the other arm, and with a firm tug, Michelangelo pulled the ends, taking out the slack so that his forearms drew together.

“Mikey—”

“Like I said.” Michelangelo finished by wrapping the tape over and over and over his wrists, reinforcing the bindings as he tucked in the ends. “No one else is coming in. You’re in here with me for a few hours.”

Michelangelo watched the way Leonardo pulled and shifted to test that he really couldn’t pull free. The way Leonardo didn’t panic or try to run, instead lowering his arms and meeting Michelangelo’s look.

Michelangelo felt his suspicions confirmed. Leonardo even waiting for his little brother to take the next step. To dictate the next step. Michelangelo reached over to  cup his face, brushing his thumb across his brother’s cheek. The tip slid into Leonardo’s mouth up to the first knuckle, then withdrew to hover his mouth.

“What are you doing?” Leonardo whispered.

“I’m testing something,” Michelangelo said. “Can you get loose?”

“…no.”

“Are you going to run when my back is turned?”

“No.” Leonardo smiled with a faint laugh. “Not like I’d get far anyway.”

Michelangelo paused. “Do you like that?”

Blinking in confusion, Leonardo tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Me tying you up, knowing I’m gonna do stuff to you and you can’t stop me.”

The flush returned to Leonardo’s face twice as strong, and he lowered his eyes, refusing to look at him even when Michelangelo tilted his face up.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Michelangelo said, “so no one hears you pounding you into the mat. And I’m gonna come before you can, and then I’ll see if the coast is clear so I can take you back to my room and do it again. And I’ll keep doing it until you beg to suck me off just for a break. Then I’ll let you come.”

Leonardo’s breathing had grown labored. Michelangelo slid his thumb back into his mouth, pressing deep so that Leonardo balked. But when he tried to back away, Michelangelo caught his brother’s jaw, holding him tight.

“Do you like this?” Michelangelo asked.

“Don’t make me say—” Leonardo whispered, his voice muffled.

“No, you’re going to say it.” Michelangelo leaned close, pulling his bound arms so that Leonardo was yanked close. “Do you want me to keep doing this to you?”

He felt Leonardo’s pulse against his knuckles, felt the warm breath panting over his fingers. Leonardo’s eyes shut, and he gave one more struggle to pull away. Michelangelo held him tight as if he was holding a fluttering bird. The blush was down Leonardo’s throat, and he absolutely would not look up.

The answer was a small, silent nod.

Michelangelo wondered if his brother would have admitted that to anyone else, if he would have admitted it now if he hadn’t been captured first. Michelangelo held his brother a moment longer, savoring that unbroken vulnerability.

The kiss that followed was as fragile as a wisp of incense.


	2. Natural Sub

Somehow Splinter didn’t notice. At breakfast, everyone followed the same routine. Tea, cereal, the wrestling match for the sugar and squabbling over the tv remote. But as Leonardo ate, he felt the look of his siblings always coming back to him. Even between their rough housing, Raphael and Donatello kept glancing sideways at him. Michelangelo watched him over his cereal bowl, a small smile there and gone again before anyone else noticed.

They all knew.

When Splinter excused himself to watch the first of his soap operas, all four turtles watched him retire to his bedroom. As soon as the door closed, three of them turned on the fourth.

“Clean up the table,” Raphael said. “Definitely job number one.”

With a soft huff, Leonardo gathered up all the plates and dishes, not saying a word about the spilled milk, the toppled sugar. He performed the chore as if nothing was any different than when it was his turn, and he even did the dishes before returning from the kitchen.

“Man, that’s good,” Raphael breathed. “I didn’t even have to tell him.”

“Of course not. He’s well trained.” Michelangelo took another sip, draining his chocolate milk. He raised his eyeridge at Leonardo, who took the mug and refilled it with the two marshmallows he’d learned to add.

“What else can we make him do?” Raphael wondered as he glanced around the lair.

“You’re thinking too small,” Michelangelo said. “Leo, are you still wearing them?”

Leonardo went still. He’d hoped that his brothers could have come up with a few more basic tasks for him, but Michelangelo was having none of it. After a glance at Splinter’s door, he nodded.

“Show Raph and Donny.”

Well trained or not, Leonardo hesitated a second before he pulled his wristband up, revealing the black edge of buckled leather. Raphael and Donatello leaned closer, their eyes going wide.

“Are those…?” Donatello asked, moving to poke at it.

Leonardo brought his hands down under the table quickly.

“Cuffs,” Michelangelo said. “He also has them on his ankles. They’ve got tiny little locks on ‘em, and I’ve got the keys hidden around the lair.”

“They don’t hurt?” Raphael asked.

“He doesn’t mind if they’re a little tight.”

Michelangelo voice trailed off playfully. Leonardo looked like he was going to melt from the heat of the flush working across his face.

“You remember how to use them?” Michelangelo asked.

Leonardo’s look, wide-eyed and tremulous, went between Michelangelo to their brothers and back. With a glance, Leonardo didn’t beg so much as he questioned if Michelangelo was sure, truly certain, that he was going to do this.

There was no doubt. Michelangelo grinned, practically dying to show off.

Quietly so that his voice wouldn’t carry past the table, Leonardo answered with only a faint tremor in his voice.

“Your command?”

“Hands together, then maneuver number two,” Michelangelo said in the same tone as if he’d asked for another napkin. “Show them what a good little sub you are.”

Leonardo hesitated, unable to look up. He pulled his wrist bands aside enough to reveal the heavy carabiner on each cuff as he pressed them together. There was a hard click as they closed, binding his wrists—they were so sturdy that he couldn’t have taken them off one-handed—and then he slid under the table and leaned over Michelangelo’s lap. His brother’s cock was there waiting, and he put his mouth over it, quietly sucking.

“Holy—” Raphael started, about to lean down.

“No.” Michelangelo held both of them with a rare serious look. “He’s mine. You didn’t get to him first, so you don’t get to watch or play unless I say so.”

If there was any hint of the going on under the table on his face, they couldn’t see it.

“How were we supposed to know he went for that?” Donatello complained. “Between practice and meditation, he’s as asexual as they come.”

“The spiciest thing about him is the chai tea,” Raphael said.

“Exactly,” Michelangelo said as if that explained everything. That he bit his lip in a sudden spike of pleasure that only fueled their envy. “Donny, you think with your brain. Raph, you’re all heart. But big brother’s all body and instinct. The practicing and meditation keeps him calm, soothes the nerves…I just gave him another outlet for it.”

He clenched his fist on the table’s edge. Leonardo was indeed well trained.

“And you got him performing like a sex slave how?” Donatello demanded. “Is he drugged?”

“He likes giving orders,” Raphael said. “Not taking 'em. And not in front of people.”

“Dude, I wouldn’t even know what to put in his drink,” Michelangelo laughed. “You’re making it too complicated. Leo’s a natural sub—my wish, his command. Why’d you think he gives orders? He’s just comfortable doing what Splinter wants.”

He shuddered once, then snapped his fingers under the table. Leonardo took just enough time to clean up and compose himself before sitting back down. His bound hands lay awkwardly in front of him, but he didn’t move to hide them.

“And besides…” Michelangelo said, looking at his brothers. “You ain’t people.”

He tapped the exposed carabiners between his brother’s wrists.

“I figure we can share.” He shrugged. “Even I get tired sometimes. And what were the odds there’s only one of us who likes being on the receiving end all the time.”

“Impossible,” Donatello scoffed. “Raph’s too much. No one can receive that all the time.”

At Raphael’s wounded gasp, Leonardo couldn’t help the tiny laugh that forced its way out. He gave Michelangelo a look.

“He has a point,” Leonardo said. “Raph really is too much. You’re insatiable, but him…”

Raphael grumbled. “Can’t help it if I was the only one in line when they were handing out big dicks.”

“Explains a lot of things,” Leonardo muttered.

“Big talk from someone with his hands in a vise—” Raphael sat straight, feathers clearly ruffled.

“Shh,” Michelangelo whispered, looking between them to make sure Splinter hadn’t heard. When he relaxed, he noticed the small glare between Leonardo and Raphael. He leaned close enough to whisper sharply at Leonardo.

“Quiet,” he ordered, “or I’ll give Raph the cock gag you hate.”

Leonardo frowned but didn’t argue, looking away from Raphael’s growing smile.

“At least this’ll cut down on their arguing,” Donatello said. “So…what? Are we working out a rotation schedule?”

Michelangelo glanced between Leonardo, now sitting still with growing tension in his shoulders, and Raphael, the hungry gleam in his eye settling on the locks of Leonardo’s cuffs.

“Donny…” Michelangelo said slowly, sounding it out in his head first. “You can have him tonight if you want—”

Donatello was nodding before he even finished.

“And Raph…you can have him two nights from now. One night so he can rest,” he said over Raphael’s mounting protest. “And one night 'cause you argued with him.”

Raphael growled. “He started it.”

“Are you five?” Leonardo snapped.

“More'n five inches,” Raphael said. “All up your—”

“Will you two shut up?” Donatello said, looking over his shoulder.

“Is your ass glowing?” Michelangelo asked Leonardo. “Not yet it ain’t.”

As Leonardo’s eyes widened at the promised punishment, Michelangelo turned back to Raphael.

“Every time you two argue, that’s another night you can’t touch,” Michelangelo said. “You get him three nights from now. Wanna go for four?”

When Raphael held his tongue, Michelangelo waited, watching as if to see if he would start arguing again. To his surprise, the comment came from his other side.

“So if I get him to yell,” Leonardo said, “he can’t touch?”

“You little…” Raphael said before he clamped a hand over his own mouth, stifling himself.

“You’re already gonna get it,” Michelangelo said. “You want a real punishment?”

Leonardo’s glance slid back to the table, but he was smiling softly. “I’m the 'natural sub’. Not like whipping’s a real punishment.”

Michelangelo hesitated. As creative as he could get, his brother had him there. Even the most outlandish punishments and humiliations only meant more enthusiastic obedience and coming.

“…I think I might be able to help there.” Donatello stared at Leonardo over steepled fingers, deep in thought. “I have him tonight, right? This is just a rough idea, but my wooden saw horse, a lawn mower motor, a leather strap…I could rig up a rudimentary spanking machine. Just fire it up and forget about it for an hour or two.”

“That’s enough time for a round of Mighty Maracas Rhythm Chase.” Michelangelo’s grin grew in proportion to Leonardo’s mounting horror.

In his room, Splinter muted his soap opera for a moment. The next few seconds sounded like the normal rough housing of vigorous young men fighting over who got to play first with the newest video game. The squabbling died down more quickly than he expected, however, and without the usual scornful bickering between Raphael and Leonardo. Whatever they were fighting about, they had calmed down so swiftly that he figured three of them must have teamed up against a fourth. Such was the way in their tiffs that he wasn’t surprised, and with the lair quiet again, he returned to his show.


	3. Penetrative

His bedroom door lay open a few inches, so Raphael heard the faint scuff of footsteps coming toward him. Looking over his magazine, he sat straighter as Donatello came in, pulling Leonardo along by a leash attached to a collar.

“Special delivery,” Donatello said.

“I thought Mikey said I didn’t get him for another couple nights.” Raphael sat upright in his hammock, putting his feet on the floor. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Mikey’s got extra training with Splinter,” Donatello said. “Probably be another hour or two. Since I was done with him, Mikey said you could keep him busy.”

“Huh.” That raised several questions, but rather than ask, he lifted his hand, catching the end of the tossed leash. “Any rules I should know about?”

“No breaking the skin,” Donatello said, counting them off on his fingers. “No deep bruising. No marks, basically. No arguing. And no gagging him just so you can rant.”

Raphael fought down his smirk. “Won’t say I wasn’t tempted. Anything else?”

“Technically he has a safeword,” Donatello said. “But Mikey said they’ve done some really extreme, freaky stuff and Leo never uses it, so…don’t expect to hear him say ‘no’.”

Raphael coughed. “'No’? Not getting the concept of a safe word, bro’.”

“I’ll be in the lab if you need me.” Donatello kissed Leonardo’s cheek. “I’ll have the new machine waiting for you on Tuesday. And don’t forget, as soon as you wake up tomorrow, coffee on my desk, just the way I like it.”

“Yes, Donatello.” Leonardo watched him go from over his shoulder. Once the door was shut, he lowered his head, looking at the floor.

Raphael didn’t miss the slight tremor of his hands.

Buying some time, he examined the leash. Bright orange canvas, probably so everyone remembered who Leonardo really belonged to. It was several feet with a carabiner on one end. He was a little surprised it didn’t simply have a lock, then figured the only person who got to use locks was Michelangelo. Sure enough, the end attached to the collar was held without a padlock.

Curious, Raphael wound the leash around his fist a few times, pulling it taut.

“Undo the leash,” he said.

Leonardo hesitated. “I can’t.”

“It ain’t locked,” Raphael said. “What, just 'cause Mikey said not to?”

“It’s not that,” Leonardo said. “Although Master did say not to.”

“That little brat the only one you call master?”

“He likes it,” Leonardo said, a faint smile betraying fond exasperation. “Donatello didn’t, said to use his full name for this.”

“So you have to call us what we say to.” Raphael’s smile grew. “If I said call me Owner of My Ass?”

“Then I would say it.” Leonardo meet his look. “Owner of Your Ass.”

Raphael laughed despite himself. “Okay, okay. Raph’ll do. Take off the leash anyway. It’s just gonna get in the way.”

“I can’t,” Leonardo said again, tapping the carabiner. “Some of them really are that strong. This one and the ones on my cuffs, I cant budge them. He has a vise he uses to push them in.”

“Huh. Well…if I guess if you can’t lose it, use it.”

Raphael wound the leash around and around his fist, pulling Leonardo closer. Leonardo didn’t try to fight, but he put his hands around it and leaned back, keep the canvas taut until Raphael had him within reach.

“Sit. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Leonardo swallowed once, his gaze sliding back to the floor.

“Mikey…he had something in mind. He probably didn’t think Splinter would keep him this long and—”

“Leo,” Raphael said. “Sit.”

“Just a little longer,” Leonardo said. His voice grew small as he realized Raphael wasn’t going to wait. “You know Mikey picks things up fast.”

Raphael waited until his brother glanced up at him again.

“Sit.” He patted the hammock beside him.

With a deep breath that shuddered as he exhaled, Leonardo came and sat beside him, hands on his lap. He didn’t move, tensing as Raphael touched his cheek, put his knuckles under his chin and forced his head up. That he took Leonardo’s hands, bringing them to his lips, kissing the backs, brought a confused look from his brother.

“Donny’s making machines?” Raphael asked.

“Y-yes.” Leonardo watched him turn his hands over for a kiss to each palm.

“He used one on you?”

“Yes.” Leonardo sounded satisfied that he controlled his voice this time. “A whipping machine.”

“How’s it work?”

“I don’t know,” Leonardo said, but from Raphael’s raised eyeridge, that wouldn’t be enough. “It’s like he said. He tied me down on a sawhorse and the thing spun around behind me. Every few minutes he changed it so it went the other way.”

“With a whip?”

“A few thin strips of leather,” Leonardo said. “He wanted to start small. Said he’ll make a stronger one later.”

“I think I’d like to see you in that.” Raphael put his hand on Leonardo’s cheek, gently turning him to meet his look. “Did you enjoy it?”

A blush. “…yes.”

“Good. I’d like to see you squirm. But just a little.”

Now Raphael took a kiss, pushing in close so that Leonardo put a hand on the hammock, holding it as he leaned back. When the kiss ended, Raphael stayed leaning over him, brushing a thumb under his eye.

“I might tie you up,” he said, “but it’s good knowing that ain’t the only reason you stay put.”

“Raph…” Leonardo started, not sure what to say.

“Now,” Raphael said over him. “Let’s get this started. Lock your hands together.”

“…yes, Raph.”

The change in his voice was immediate—softer, expectant, ready for the next command, especially now they both knew how they stood. Leonardo didn’t need to worry about Raphael using this as an opportunity to abuse him.

Manhandle, whip, beat into a mattress…but not abuse.

When Michelangelo finally arrived, he found Raphael sitting up in his hammock, Leonardo between his spread legs, dutifully working the large cock in front of him. Michelangelo’s gaze quickly dropped to Leonardo’s ass and found it untouched, if still lined with the fading red welts of Donatello’s attentions. So Raphael had spared Leonardo’s feelings and let him perform as a sex slave rather than just taking him without any consideration.

Michelangelo chuckled. Not that it would do Leonardo any good in a few minutes.

Leonardo had stopped, turning to watch Michelangelo come in. Immediately he felt a light tug of the leash pulling his face up against the cock, and he went back to sucking while they spoke over him.

“Ready to share?” Michelangelo asked, locking the door.

“Figured you’d wanna split him after your workout,” Raphael said. “Which end do you want?”

“Oh, I figured he’d ride us both,” Michelangelo said. “He complains, but he can handle it.”

Raphael tossed him the end of the leash. Leonardo was swiftly pulled up to his feet, swaying slightly as he caught his balance. Bound at the wrist, the canvas leash now formed a convenient thread to strap his hands up at his throat, and Michelangelo wound the canvas around his neck and hands, using the end carabiner to cinch his hands in place.

“You been good?” Michelangelo whispered, turning Leonardo to face him. “Been enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, master.” Leonardo glanced over his shoulder. “We…reached an understanding.”

“Aw, what a good little pet.” Michelangelo gave him a kiss so Leonardo wouldn’t see him waving Raphael close behind him. “See, this is already doing wonders for everyone. Donny’s gonna get a good night’s sleep, you’re not arguing with Raph, I get to plow you every which way…”

As he spoke, he suddenly bent and gave Leonardo’s legs a few light smacks, making him spread, then spread a little wider. And then Michelangelo put his arms under his brother and lifted, hauling him up and into Raphael’s arms. Holding Leonardo’s spread legs just under his knees, Raphael suddenly realized what his little brother meant to do. Raphael was just there for convenient muscle, to hold Leonardo up at the right height.

“This is gonna be tight,” Michelangelo said, coming close so that Leonardo was pressed between them. “Get ready.”

Who he was talking to, they couldn’t tell. Leonardo look too many deep breaths, swallowing nervously, and his open mouth was too much temptation. Even as Raphael lowered him onto his cock, he pressed his mouth to Leonardo’s, quieting him.

“Keep him from yelling,” Michelangelo said. “He’s usually pretty good, but…I should have brought a gag with me.”

Michelangelo slid his cock along Raphael’s, easing up against Leonardo’s ass. Raphael only had his head in, but even that was enough to fill up their brother. With a little force, Michelangelo slipped in beside him.

They didn’t try to push hard, instead thrusting in time with each other, making Leonardo bounce in Raphael’s arms. As Leonardo pulled away, gasping for air, he was caught again by Michelangelo, silenced by his tongue. In this way they passed him back and forth between themselves, using gravity to pull Leonardo down an inch, then two, then three, deeper onto both of them.

Leonardo’s mind swam in and out, growing increasingly lightheaded, as he was overwhelmed with the pressure and force inside him. His groans were swallowed before he could make them, any protests he might have had drowned in kisses. He couldn’t even try to hold himself up, too wrapped up in metal and the leash to do more than bob like a toy on their cocks.

Raphael came first, but that barely relieved anything as his come filled Leonardo so that he almost thought he would find it coming from his lips. Raphael continued to thrust which brought Michelangelo over soon as well.

“…you…” Michelangelo sighed, leaning against them as he caught his breath. “You keep him tonight.”

Raphael slowly lowered Leonardo to his feet, unsurprised when Leonardo folded and went to his knees, sprawling on the floor beneath them. The eldest look like he was going to pass out, staring at nothing as he panted.

“Donny gave him orders for tomorrow morning,” Raphael said, grabbing the tissues from the nightstand.

“Gonna have to work out a schedule,” Michelangelo said. “Well, Donny’s gonna catch up on three days of sleep, so he can get his coffee in the afternoon. And then I think he’s got another machine he’s making?”

He glanced at Leonardo, but he was in no condition to answer.

Raphael was left to clean up, muttering about Michelangelo escaping from doing work, and he brought Leonardo up into his hammock. The canvas he could unwind, but his brother remained locked up with his bound hands at his throat. He didn’t think that would be too comfortable…but as he lay down beside him, he found that it worked perfectly if Leonardo’s head pillowed on his shoulder.


	4. Rumble

“Close the door.”

A soft click as Leonardo obeyed, cutting off the last light from Donatello’s lab and leaving the garage pitch black. He didn’t dare follow Raphael in. He rarely visited the garage and neither of his brothers were careful with where they dropped their tools. In the darkness, the sound of machinery and motors drowned out Raphael’s footsteps.

A light began to glow against the far wall. Small, golden, it flickered and grew brighter as the lamp warmed up. It looked like bulb in a wire cage hanging from a thick cable—a garage utility light that only illuminated the motorcycle that Raphael leaned against.

Raphael patted the seat in less of an invitation than a command.

As Leonardo drew close, coming into the light, he was vaguely aware of the shadowy outlines of shelves and cabinets, the scattered shapes of parts and loose wires along the floor. Somewhere out of sight, something rattled to life into a low hum, startling him.

“Relax,” Raphael said, putting his hand behind Leonardo’s neck, drawing him closer. “It’s just the vent kicking on.”

Leonardo had no experience with this room beyond following Donatello into the van. He didn’t know how big the garage was, if there were other doors. And now that he’d stepped away from the wall, he had only the vaguest idea of where the laboratory door was. Left feeling exposed to things he couldn’t see, he nevertheless allowed Raphael to guide him up on the bike.

Backwards.

He straddled the seat, legs dangling with nothing to rest on, and he reached back to grab the handlebars. He was almost immediately followed by Raphael joining him, sitting forward, and in this position, Raphael easily loomed over him. As Raphael leaned in, Leonardo naturally leaned back until his shell hit the fiberglass body, and as his head fell back, Raphael struck, taking advantage of his bared throat. Soft tickling kisses, a long lick, the sharp nips that would leave bruises the next day.

Raphael’s hands came over Leonardo’s, pinning them to the handlebars, and then Raphael’s legs came up under his, bracing against the footpegs. The effect was minuscule, raising the angle of Leonardo’s shell, but it left his legs spread around Raphael and his ass against Raphael’s plastron.

Raphael lifted himself slightly as his tail swelled, and then Leonardo felt the familiar push Raphael into himself. Gravity crushed Leonardo further down than usual, his own cock hard and resting uselessly along the body of the bike. At such an odd angle, he could only focus on Raphael’s dark grin and the pressure that filled him, and he didn’t notice Raphael’s thumb reaching to flick the ignition.

The world shook. Or rather rumbled as the engine came to life and set everything around him vibrating. Leonardo gasped and found even that relief stolen as Raphael covered his mouth with his own. Leonardo couldn’t let go as Raphael’s hands turned to vices around his, and he could brace his legs on nothing, only put them around his brother to pull him closer.

He came in an instant. Raphael didn’t, and if Leonardo could have formed coherent thoughts, he might have imagined that Raphael had experimented with his motorcycle before. Instead the sensations became overwhelming, his body oversensitized, as he was forced to ride Raphael’s cock for long minutes as the orgasm continued and refused to fade.

When the ride was over, he couldn’t move. Raphael had to pick him up in his arms and ease him down onto the futon invisible in the dark. They lay together, Raphael chuckling at his reaction, Leonardo silently resting and waiting for his body to settle. The low drone of the vent lulled him toward sleep, helped along by his brother’s murmurs in his ear, knuckles brushed over his hand, the threat/promise of enjoying another ride.


	5. Garage Utility

“The issue isn’t that you had sex in the garage. God knows I’ve…well. The issue is safety.”

Sitting on the floor of the garage, Leonardo gave a long suffering sigh, allowing Donatello to take his right arm and begin winding the duct tape. The staff lay across his shoulders, long enough that it passed his fingertips as Donatello taped his wrist securely to one end.

“We’re two trained ninja,” Leonardo said. “The garage just has some things on the floor and machines to watch out for.”

“Exactly, loose and moving parts.” Donatello bit off the tape and patted it down, then began around his elbow. “A recipe for disaster.”

“Honestly? I’m more scared of your lab. All those glowing test tubes and burners…”

“Those are all inert substances. I would never take you near the more dangerous experiments. And the burners were all shut off.”

Donatello finished that side and moved to Leonardo’s left, taping his wrist to the other end of the staff.

“I would never do anything that might hurt you. Raphael might like getting rough and Mikey’s crazy enough to try anything once, but I prefer being the sane one of the bunch.”

Leonardo smiled. “Does that include me?”

“You’re the one doing anything you’re told.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it,” Leonardo murmured, “when you left that machine going for like an hour—ack!”

Leonardo yelped as his mask was yanked, pulling his head back. Donatello stood and stepped over his arm, coming around in front of him. Obviously the process of tying his brother had made him progressively hard so that he could immediately stuff his cock into Leonardo’s mouth, already wide open and waiting.

“You’re getting…too comfy…with this sex slave thing.” Donatello struggled to keep his thoughts clear. The weeks after discovering their brother’s preferences had meant hours of practice of all things sexual, and Leonardo had always been a dedicated student. Compared to those first days, Leonardo was doing things with his tongue that should have been impossible.

But Donatello was not the brains of the family for nothing, and he managed to keep his mind even as his brother brought him over the edge. As he shuddered, catching his breath, he tightened his grip on the staff taped to his brother’s arms.

“You can’t just…let everyone do crazy stuff to you regardless of the consequences.”

Visibly swallowing, Leonardo looked up at him, resting his head on Donatello’s plastron.

“You three aren’t going to hurt me.” He lowered his head and found the tip of Donatello’s cock still retracting between his thighs, pressing a light kiss to it as it pulled away. “And so far I don’t mind the consequences.”

To hell with it. Donatello only had so much strength. His brother ended up with a sore jaw and light bruises on his throat when Donatello held him still as he finished a second time.

“Okay,” Donatello gasped, almost shaking. “You got me with that one.”

When he was back in control of himself, Donatello finished the last few wraps of duct tape around his arm, better securing the staff, then tore two more strips of tape. These formed a perfect X across Leonardo’s mouth.

“But if you’re going to be in here often, tied up, gagged, in the dark, whatever, then the garage has to be a lot safer. And that means picking up all the scraps on the floor. And that means…”

Here Donatello slid a bucket on either end of the staff and taped the handles in place. Without being too rough, he then took the staff and lifted his brother to his feet.

“…you are helping.”

Leonardo frowned. He had no clue what anything in the garage was, let alone where it belonged.

Then Donatello bent, gathered several handfuls of tools and gears and parts and dropped them into the buckets. Leonardo grunted as the weight increased—not enough to be a burden, but enough to drag on his shoulders. When Donatello dumped several more handfuls into the other bucket, Leonardo made a muffled complaint

“Hey, ‘slave’, punishments don’t have to be just sexual.” Donatello sprinkled in a few last bolts. “If I have to clean up this whole garage, you aren’t getting out of helping.”

Leonardo’s grumble made clear what he thought about that, grumbling again when Donatello simply snapped his fingers for him to follow.


End file.
